Advent is a time of waiting, and of preparation. Of contemplation—of what is past, and what is to come. During Advent, we make wreaths, made of leaves or evergreens, with four candles, and we light one candle for each of the four Sundays leading up to Christmas.
Today is the first Sunday of Advent. May your candle burn quiet in the dark, and may you be at peace.
In the light of eternity, time casts no shadow.
“Your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions.” But what is it that the old women see?
We see necessity, and we do the things that must be done.
Young women don’t see—they are, and the spring of life runs through them.
Ours is the guarding of the spring, ours the shielding of the light we have lit, the flame that we are.
What have I seen? You are the vision of my youth, the constant dream of all my ages. Spark to my tinder.
At the brink of war again, I am a citizen of no place, no time; no country but my own… and that a land lapped by no sea but blood, bordered only by the outlines of a face long-loved.
This Prologue is from WRITTEN IN MY OWN HEART’S BLOOD.
(This blog entry was also posted on my official Facebook page on November 29, 2015.)